


Lock In

by 13atoms (2Atoms)



Series: Count Orlo (Oneshots) [2]
Category: The Great (2020), The Great (Hulu)
Genre: Catherine and Marial are little shits, F/M, Locked-in together: the trope, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:54:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24500389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Atoms/pseuds/13atoms
Summary: Desperate to get their two smitten accomplices to admit their feelings for one another, Catherine and Marial have a plan. And a stolen key.
Relationships: Count Orlo x Female Reader, Count Orlo x Reader
Series: Count Orlo (Oneshots) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770073
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	Lock In

A pleasant bath was sometimes all it took for you to feel better. Not today, though. The coup was going poorly. You’d failed in your attempts to win over the other ladies of the court, and Orlo had totally written off all your suggestions in the meeting at the old theatre.

A complete and utter _failure_.

Even the bath was slightly too hot, and you felt a little sympathy for the lobsters down in the kitchens as you ducked your head under the sweet-smelling water, washing off the sweat gathering on your face.

It shouldn’t bother you so much to be written off by Orlo. Catherine should be the bigger concern, of course. This coup was about her. You were all just pawns. Important, but there to serve her. Perhaps Orlo was a knight, though. Always a step ahead of the rest of you.

You had tried to quash your curiosity with him, from the moment Catherine had introduced the pair of you. You’d never thought much of him before she came into your lives. He had just been another dull bureaucrat, biding his time before Peter got bored and had him killed. But then you’d heard him talking with the Empress about these sparkling new European ideas, and your curiosity had grown into infatuation. He was sweet, in a way most men weren’t. So clever, too. He was always desperate to share books and pamphlets with all of you, relishing in finally knowing people who had similarly open minds. Perhaps you, moreso than the others. Or maybe you imagined it, desperate for signs he felt come kind of affection for you besides as a friend of the Empress.

He’d visit you alone, from him to time, to deliver readings. He was always awkward and quick to leave, even as you tried to have him stay, to discuss what you’d learnt. He never accepted your invitations. He was a man with a million things to do, endless excuses. It was strange, however, that he’d treat you in such a way. In coup meetings the pair of you could talk for hours. You’d forget the rest of the group were even there. Perhaps he didn’t feel the same enrapturement with your discussions. He’d never asked you to continue them further.

You had never been more grateful to have a father who taught you to read.

As you emerged from the water, hair slicked back to your head, you noticed noise outside of your apartments. Giggling, perhaps? Some pounding on the door. You sat up straight, looking around for anything to hide your nakedness if there was an intruder.

Where was your maid?

“Let me out! This isn’t _funny,_ Catherine!”

Oh god. You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

You heard muffled words outside of your apartments but couldn’t make out anything. You drew your legs up to your chest, holding still as if he might not see you.

“Fuck! I’m sorry! I came to deliver a pamphlet, and Marial said you would receive me, but…”

Orlo appeared in the doorway, and his voice trailed off. He was clutching the papers in his hand so tightly they bent, staring up at the ceiling. He was facing away from you, but you could tell his cheeks would be warm with embarrassment.

“They’ve locked the doors,” he mumbled.

“Fucking hell.”

You called for your maid, concerned when she didn’t arrive. There was more banging outside.

You heard her voice, apologising. Catherine or Marial must have the key.

“I’m sorry. I’ll wait out here until they can open the doors, I…” he stuttered, still framed by the open double doors to your receiving room.

“I suppose they think this is funny. Fetch me a robe, I’ll go and talk to them.”

“What?”

“A robe. It’s rather like a coat, but for indoors.” You deadpanned.

“I am aware of what a robe is.”

“Well my girl can’t get in here, and I’m naked, so go to the wardrobe and find one.”

You were proud of the steadiness in your voice, considering how exposed you felt. Christ. How much had Orlo seen? The water did very little to conceal your body, and you tried to cover your bust with your arms as best you could.

Not that you needed to worry. Orlo refused to even look in the same _room_ as you. His eyes fixed first on the receiving room outside, and then on the floor.

“Where is the wardrobe?”

“In here. The far corner.”

“I shall avert my eyes.”

You laughed out a ‘thank you’, but the count didn’t seem as amused. Perhaps his ineptitude with women was not as exaggerated as you had assumed.

He looked only at the floor, accepting your directions as he crossed the sitting room to the wardrobe. He opened the wardrobe, staring at the overfilled hanging rail in horror, no doubt embarrassed by the undergarments and sleepwear he saw there.

“Which one?”

“I don’t care,” you called to him.

“Right.”

In another circumstance it would have been rather thrilling to watch Orlo try and pick out a robe for you to wear. As it stood, you hoped he had chosen something relatively opaque.

“This?”

He held out a robe which seemed functional enough, and you nodded before realising he couldn’t see you. His eyes were closed.

“Perfect.”

*

You regretted the day you won favour with that woman, with the admission you liked to read, backing her in front of court’s other ladies. After all you did for her…

“Catherine!”

Dressed in just the thin damp robe, you marched towards the doors, arms crossed over your chest. You rattled the doors, confirming they were locked, hearing the giggles of Marial and Catherine outside.

Fuckers.

“You must talk to each other, for once!” Catherine declared.

Orlo appeared behind you, and you cursed them out loud.

“Do you have the key?”

“Perhaps!” Marial called back.

“At least let my maid in! I was just in the bath!”

Perhaps you could barge the door fully open, if they unlocked it for the maid.

“Dress yourself!”

You should have known Marial would not be sympathetic to your plight. With a frustrated groan you stepped away from the door, letting Orlo take your place whilst you hunted down a ribbon to tie your wet hair away from your body. The servants normally handled it, so you were forced to wander around the room trying to figure out where they hid the damn things.

“Why are we being kept in here? It’s not _funny_ , Catherine. I have to be places!”

Not quite quick enough to stifle a laugh, you caught Orlo’s attention for a moment. It was a little funny, how desperate he was to leave a half-naked woman. You knew he hated spending time in your presence.

The Empress’ high tone carried through the locked doors, strict. She reminded you of a teacher at times.

“I believe you two ought to have a conversation, for once. Work through your business.”

“Catherine! I swear to god…” You shouted across the room, the reality of what they’d done looming.

You’d confided in Catherine one night, drunk in the corner of a party, asking her if it was _weird_ you thought Orlo to be so damn attractive.

 _‘Not at all.’_ She’d replied, appraising the man in question across the room. ‘ _I think the pair of you would be quite the couple._ ’

‘ _Please don’t go matchmaking.’_ You had begged. She’d winked, but promised her non-interference.

You should never have taken her at her word. Especially once she’d told Marial, there would be no stopping their meddling.

It paid to keep your mouth shut in this court.

“This isn’t fair!” You whined, hoping you might appeal to her empathetic nature, without alerting Orlo as to why you were so upset. “Please, don’t do this.”

He had wandered a short distance away to sit, head in hands. He didn’t seem alarmed by your words, thank fuck.

It wasn’t right. She couldn’t do this to you, like a cruel joke on a schoolgirl. You couldn’t take his rejection in person. What was wrong with those two! Would they really jeopardise your delicate coup plans, just to embarrass you?

“I am walking away now, as is Marial. We will return once you have sorted your differences.”

“Fuck you!” you called through the door.

You hoped no one overheard. A little treasonous, that.

True to her bluff, you heard two sets of footsteps retreating from the door, echoing through the corridor outside.

“Fu-uck.” You whined, giving the door one last pound.

Turning your attention to Orlo made you acutely aware of how undressed you were, each curve of your body outlined by the single layer of silky fabric.

“Is there really no other exit?” he asked.

“None. Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have trusted Marial,” Orlo muttered. “I can wait here, until they let us out.”

You took him in for a moment. His gaze hadn’t left the floor in front of his shoes since he started talking, and you took the hint. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be around you.

“Fine. I’ll be in the other room, let me know when they unlock the doors.”

“Of course.”

Every part of your instincts protested to leaving a guest alone, especially Orlo. It was poor manners. Nonetheless you left the receiving room, heading to your sitting room and bedroom. You winced as you closed the doors behind you and cringed at the still-warm bath sat just through the doors. It was tempting to slide back in, hide under the water and maybe hope this was all a bad dream.

You longed to speak to Catherine and Marial in private, to beg that this unwarranted punishment was a cruel thing to inflict on their fellow woman.

Yes, you wanted to spend more time with Orlo. But not like this. And certainly not against his will, being reminded of your unrequited affections for the man. Stockings and a semblance at styling your hair kept you busy for a moment, before you struggled to lace yourself into a back-fastened dress. Damn it, these garments were not suited to dressing alone.

You let the bodice sit loose around you, a little open at the back. You were grateful to be covered at all. The discomfort was getting to you. Your temptation to go and bang at the doors, see if perhaps a servant might be able to get in, was met with the fear of seeing Orlo again.

The awkwardness. His discomfort. Your heart broke a little, at how desperately he avoided you.

Mind made up, you settled on your bed with a book. The grounds outside looked gorgeous at present, and you longed to go for a walk. You wished to exercise out this unhealthy agitation you were filled with knowing how close the bureaucrat was to you.

A few pages of your book stretched far longer than they had any right to, as you tried to drag your mind away from Count Orlo, from what he might be entertaining himself with in the other room. Were there books left in there? You couldn’t remember. Which ones, if so? Would he judge you for reading fiction? Perhaps you should go and provide him something better to read, something more of his standard.

No, you reminded yourself. You were to stay in here, waiting for him to knock, and to announce you were released.

Then you would be alone again, and he would be free of you.

The book had finally become absorbing when you heard voices in the other room. Excited that someone might be through the doors at last, you jumped up, rushing through to the entrance to your apartments.

As you opened the doors you were disappointed to realise you were still locked in, with Orlo leant by the doors, speaking to someone on the other side.

He leapt away when you entered, either from shock or wrongdoing, you couldn’t tell.

“Who’s that?”

“Marial.” He whispered.

“I am checking whether you have sorted out your differences, at Catherine’s behest.”

“Yes! We have! Tell her, Orlo, to let us out!”

He went to speak, but was cut off my Marial’s laughter. Cruel.

“I think if you had actually been speaking, you might not want to leave, my lady.”

You knew she only tagged on your title to infuriate you, and you slumped on the floor in irritation. Orlo met your eye, and you winked.

“I think we might not want you listening in, Marial.” You tried to sound suggestive, hoping against hope she might not see through your bluff.

Certainly, you hoped the count wouldn’t understand.

“Indeed!” he tagged on, looking at you with confusion.

“If that is the case, I shall leave you unheard for a while longer,” she teased. “And return before dinner!”

 _Fuck_. You hadn’t even had lunch.

“No! Please, Marial.” You sighed. Here goes. “Catherine’s little game is completely misguided, and will not go anywhere. You are keeping Orlo from far more important matters.”

“More important than matters of the heart?” she teased.

Orlo’s face was right near yours, ear pressed to the door to hear clearly.

“Fuck you.”

Your choice was thick with emotion as you bit back, and you hoped for a moment Marial might sense the sincerity of your plight. You had to look away from Orlo, from the confusion on his face. Hopefully he would pretend to forget this, refuse to ever infer meaning from it.

“I am leaving now.”

“Please!” you yelled.

You knew you sounded hysterical, but you didn’t care. Slumped against the door, you cursed Catherine. You had shown her a weakness, and she had plunged a knife into it.

Tears welled in your eyes as you heard her footsteps once more. You went to stand, to flee the embarrassment you would endure staying here. Orlo’s hand on your arm stopped you.

“’Matters of the heart’, did she say?”

He stammered a little.

“Please don’t,” you begged him.

“Tell me what she meant.”

Orlo sat on the floor beside you, and you let your head _thump_ back against the wood, wincing at the dull pain.

“I confided in Catherine something I shouldn’t have, and she gossiped to Marial. I won’t make the mistake again.”

It was an abridged truth, and you ground it out. Orlo laughed, and you felt his mirth like a dagger in your heart.

“You know, I fear I may have made the same mistake.”

A moment passed, enough time for his implication to settle in. _Oh_.

“What did you confess?”

“That I find myself enamoured with a beautiful woman from court, who is rather _out of my league_.”

His eyes on you were almost too intense to look at, a gentle, nervous smile painted across his face. He knew Catherine’s mind well enough to piece the events together which had left you here, certainly. You felt a rush of boldness.

“Strange. I confessed to fancying an advisor, who is too clever and esteemed to have a fondness for me.”

“What a pair,” he sighed.

You let yourself lean closer to him, until your shoulders bounced together.

“The advisor is you, in case you did not catch on.”

Orlo had the decency to look a little surprised.

“I fear you overestimate my cleverness, then.”

His hand found yours, fumbling, reminding you once again he was far too innocent for this madhouse.

“I fear you underestimate your _‘league’,_ ” you whispered.

His lips lit up in a smile, and you covered them with your own, chuckling at how awkwardly he kissed. He learnt quickly, fortunately. When you finally needed a breath, you laughed at his stupefied face, and how he immediately reached for you again.

“I hate it when Catherine’s right.”

Suddenly the pair of you fell backwards, the doors opening with a creak and twin giggles from Marial and Catherine. The Empress’ face met yours, upside down, and you furrowed your eyebrows at her.

“I am rarely wrong,” the Empress declared.

You’d give her this one.


End file.
